onwards, always
your wagon hitched to another horse
galloping away
as you ride
away
let me be clear
I’ll sit by this fireside
a cowboy guitar
rusty harmonica
mournful blues
if you could see my eyes
they’d plead for
understanding
sitting at the table
I showed my whole hand
every card in plain sight
if you’d shown me
yours
we would still be together
out here on the prairie
in the blowing rain or
demanding sun
but I’m not a cowboy
and your horse
is gone
Adam F.C. Fletcher 